


Allision

by captaincuppy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Fictional Historic Era, Fluff and Humor, Graphic Description of Viktor Nikiforov's Body, M/M, Magic, Merman!Viktor - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Sea witches, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2018-11-09 11:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaincuppy/pseuds/captaincuppy
Summary: allision (noun) - a violent striking; the intentional collision of two ships.A fairy tale about an ethereal creature falling in love with a young fisherman.





	1. Chapter 1

The sand is burning under his soles as he’s running along the shore, ankles caressed by the waves as he changes his path. His weight is nearly enough to press his footprints into the wet ground, not leaving any marks that cannot be eaten by the high tide.

His chest is heaving, tears weeping from his eyes. He sprints faster, reaching the crenulated, coal-grey cliffs that hang above the bay like rainclouds. As he holds his arms out, climbing on the top of a pillar, he welcomes the cold, rough feeling of the rocks. He staggers to his feet on top of it, balancing across the narrow path that leads into the ocean.

He starts feeling a familiar flood of solace. He dries his teary eyes behind the glasses, sniffling softly. He lets his shoulders jolt as desperation fights with willingness. The lukewarm, salty breeze parches the tears on his flushed cheeks. He sits down on the edge, one leg splashing into the sea, the other dragged up so he can hug his knee and hide his face.

He cries and cries until he cannot anymore. He kept his eyes shut the whole time; now that he finally opens them, he can barely see the sun behind the horizon. The sky is burning with orange flames, painting the froths pink and lavender, painting the water black.

He sniffles once more, wiping his glasses with his shirt. Fear starts blooming in his chest; he’s never been found by the night outside, never had to follow the path of stars back home. He’s not sure if he can do it, not now, not alone.

Panic strikes in his throat, its steel grip cold and foreign. He’s about to tear up again, futile and frantic. He whimpers quietly, then gasps as something touches his ankle in the water.

He drags his leg out, gripping the edge of the rock to lean above the sea and he catches a glimpse of something big. Very big, slender and graceful, dark underneath. Curiosity overshadows the fear of the unknown, and just as he turns his head to follow the creature, something lights up underwater.

His mouth falls open. The gleaming light grows bigger and brighter, outshining every star he’s ever seen when it emerges from the waves, followed by a wrist and an arm. He watches a beautiful creature reveal themselves inch by inch, water pouring from their long, silver hair, curved nose and pale lips. They don’t look much older than him, still somewhat eternal. The setting sun illuminates their back only, crowning them with a halo of honey-like beams.

“This is for you,” they say,  holding out the mysterious shining object. Their voice is soft and rough at the same time, sounding distorted like it’s coming from deep below.

Instead of backing down, almost against his will, he doesn’t hesitate. Their fingers touch; the creature’s hand is silky and slippery under his, glowing skin stretching between their long fingers. He feels the urge to never draw back from it, to sink deeper into the magnetic sense. It’s soothing. Tranquilizing. Narcotic.

He pulls his hand back.

“Thank you.”

He stares at the tiny seashell on his palm, pulsing with sparkling, turquoise light. The remains of fear evaporate from his veins, replaced with solitude.

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Is it magical?” he asks, voice breaking from sudden excitement. His eyes widen, staring down at the creature.

They swim a tiny bit closer and the waves splash onto the rocks. Their shoulders are sharp and wider than his, silver hair covering them completely and floating around them like a veil.

“For your kind, I suppose it is.”

“Why did you give it to me?”

“To lead you home.”

He straightens his spine and licks his lips. The shell between his fingers is heavy with warmth. He wants to query the creature to reveal what they are, but he feels those words harsh and unmannered. Instead, he asks:

“Who are you?”

“Why did you cry?”

The question catches him off guard. His cheeks burn in the last beams of sunlight, and he looks down shamefully.

“Big boys don’t cry,” he repeats what he’s been told at school. It makes the creature smile even brighter.

They cling to the pillars on his left, pushing themselves a bit higher. They cross their arms and rest their chin on them, tilting their head slightly. They look even more ethereal, squinting up at him like that, eyes shining with silent laughter.

“Can you keep a secret?” they ask then, speaking in whispers.

The reply comes in whispers, too, like speaking too loud would break something - ruin something - between them.

The sun sank into the sea, leaving them in warmish half-light.

“Yes.”

“Two moons before, I cried too.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I was feeling desperate, so I cried. I even cried for longer than you have.”

He feels the heat rise even higher on his cheeks. He says grace for the twilight tinting his whole body in greys.

“Did you- have you been here the whole time?”

They don’t look embarrassed at all.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?”

He thinks about it sorely before answering.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

The gentle smile he earns is brighter and more enchanting than before. They part their lips to say something, but at the same time-

“Yuuri! Yuuri, are you here? Answer me! Yuuri!”

A young girl’s voice outshouts the rippling sea. Yuuri winces at the sound, startling the creature, too. They stare at each other with mouths hanging open. Before Yuuri could say anything, they draw their pale lips into a faint smile again, murmuring “ _Yuuri_ ” before they dive into the waves with a quiet splash.

Yuuri staggers to his feet, leaning forward to see them one last time, waving goodbye. He glances at the shining shell he still holds onto; beams breaking through the creaks between his fingers. He turn on his heels, climbing back towards the shore, shell held out high above his head.

“Yuuri!”

“I’m here!” he yells back, voice raspy from crying and whispering for so long.

“Yuuri, is that you?”

He hears quick footsteps, rushing closer in the cold, wet sand. Yuuri hops down from the rock, right into someone’s arms.

Mari hugs him close firmly, hiding her face in Yuuri’s hair. She’s fighting for air, squeezing Yuuri like she wants to steal the air from him.

“Where have you been?” she cries into his ear. “Mom and dad’ve been worried sick! We had no idea where you went, or what you were doing, or-”

Yuuri mumbles something under his breath, trying to draw back from Mari’s touch.

“Thank god you’re alright. Have you been here the whole time?”

“Yes.”

Mari finally lets him go, only to grab him by the shoulders and frown at him.

“Don’t ever do this again, alright? I know how you must feel, losing your best friend but- hey. What’s that in your hand?”

Yuuri raises the seashell up; it illuminates Mari’s pale face and ruffled tufts, eyes red and puffy.

“Something magical to lead me home.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Someone gave it to me.”

“Someone?” Mari echoes, shaking her head. She sinks her fingers into Yuuri’s shoulder deeper.  “Yuuri, you know you’re not supposed talk to strangers.”

“They weren’t a stranger.”

“What’s their name?”

“I-”

“Where are they from?”

“From the sea.”

“The sea?” Mari’s eyes widen and she gasps a little. “Yuuri, did you talk to _pirates_?”

“No, no, I mean…” Yuuri gestures towards the ocean shakily. “They came from the sea. They live there.”

Mari slaps her palm on Yuuri’s forehead.

“Hey!”

“Do you have a fever, or what?”

“I swear it’s true!”

Yuuri resists and fidgets. Mari clasps his flapping hand and starts leading him along the seashore. Yuuri feels five again. He sniffles, huffs, and follows his sister with hasty steps. With his free hand, he uses the shell as a lantern - he can feel Mari’s eyes finding the light from time to time.

“So, is it magical?” she asks after a while, curiosity hiding in the undertones of her voice. The dim, sallow lights of their town are growing, twinkling in the darkness like fenfire. Yuuri’s eyes are still watery, casting the illusion of amber lights dripping and spreading in the shapes of stars.

“That’s what they said. For ‘our kind’.”

“What does that even mean?”

“For people. I think. For us, humans.”

Mari sighs and strokes Yuuri’s hand with her thumb. They climb up on a staircase of rocks to reach the edge of town. From there, they need to round the mossy stone walls to reach the tiny channel that’s rippling in front of the inn their family’s been running for four generations.

Stepping into their garden, Yuuri feels the cool scratching of grass on his soles and ankles. Mari stops suddenly, pulling him back as well. Yuuri glances back at her: lips pressed together into a thin line, she looks so much older than she is.

“Aren’t you a little old to believe in fairy tales?”

The tears Yuuri had swallowed down are burning his eyes once again. Catching a glimpse of them as they well up, Mari’s shoulders drop and she rephrases in a softer voice:

“I don’t think you should tell anyone else what you think you saw. I just don’t want you to be picked on again, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry, don’t cry.”

Yuuri shakes all over, hiding his face in his palm and smudging his glasses. Cold sweat sticking his clothes to his skin and breath hitching, he’s unable to breathe and confess that being close to home releases all bottled up feelings of guilt and grief. He’s terrified to step into the inn, foolishly expecting him to still be there, running towards him and barking welcomingly, tapping on his chest with soft paws.

Instead, he lies.

“I don’t want mom and dad to be mad.”

Mari reaches out to pat him on the shoulder and looks inside the inn through the window. A small figure crosses the light, casting a shadow on both of them.

“Dad’s still outside, looking for you with the Nishigoris. By the time he gets back, he’ll be too tired to be mad. It’s gonna be okay. Trust me.”

Her palm slides down to take Yuuri’s hand and leads him inside. As the door closes behind them, Yuuri finds himself in the arms of his mother, and for the first time that day, he doesn’t want to get away from someone’s touch.

He lets her cradle and rock his sorrow away, both of them shaking with irresistible floods of weeping.

The shell in his hand grows cold, turquoise light blown out.

Yuuri feels like he’s never found his way home.

 

⚓

 

Yuuri puts the basket on his shoulder, cast net inside and two wooden buckets in his other hand. He crinkles his nose to adjust his glasses and shakes his hair out of his face.

The world is still quiet; daybreak clambering on stone walls and rampant trees, early birds welcoming the first beams of sunlight. Inside the inn, his family is already on their feet, rushing around to make breakfast for the customers who had spent the night there.

Yuuri crosses paths with his father on his way towards the kitchen. Toshiya’s carrying some plates, smiling brightly at Yuuri above them.

“Good morning! Going fishing, I see.”

“Good morning. Yes, I was about to ask, how many I should bring back?”

Toshiya makes an unsure little sound, smile not fading on his face.

“Fill those two buckets you have there. That should be enough.”

“Alright,” Yuuri nods and smiles back faintly as a goodbye. “I’m off.”

Toshiya’s cheerful voice follows him to the back door:

“Take care and hurry back! We’re pretty short-handed. Last night’s storm is great for our living but terrible, _terrible_ for my waist.”

Yuuri exhales through his nose, smirking under his breath. He sets forth and hurries down the pebbly path that crosses the town’s high street. From there, after a ten minute walk, he reaches the tiny harbor at the other side of the bay - far away from the black rocks he used to spend so much time on, wandering and pondering.

He tears his glance off of them in the distance, feet clapping on the tumbledown pier. He greets the familiar faces with a polite nod and a forced smile, scuttering past them to avoid conversation. After all this time, the only thing that eases his mind is the rattling sea, the sound of rippling waves and seagulls’ cries.

His family’s boat cast anchor at the end of the pier, rocking softly on the early tide. It’s nothing but a cockleboat, waiting there for someone to conquer her for a short journey along the bay. It’s usually Yuuri’s job to sail to the end of the serene sea, to the line where the bay meets the ocean, and net some fish for the guests to eat.

Yu-topia Inn has always had financial troubles, due to the hardly approachable little bay that surrounds the town, but a storm like yesterday’s can trap ships of many kinds. The Katsukis welcome the dangerous weather that warns sailors to come to anchor while they can, and hungry seamen emerging from the ships’ bellies, looking for shelter.

Yuuri hops into the boat with ease, loosening the tie that keeps it in place. The equipment he brought is knocking into the sides, net hissing and buckets tapping. He grabs the oars with practice, paddling towards the pink waves.

He feels freer with every splash of water. It’s been weeks since he could get away from the everyday schedule he has at the inn, the never-ending circle of serving and cleaning and cooking. He’s missed the sea and all it has to offer - the hyaline surface and the myriad of wonders beneath.

He reaches the mouth of the bay and turns his head to look back. The town is hiding behind the rising curtain of morning mist, oblique towers reaching out like dark branches of the same tree.

He’s floating in his own personal paradise of gently rippling waves. The semicircular mountains around the bay cast shadows on the water. Yuuri closes his eyes for a moment before grabbing the net and scrambling to his feet.

As the tiny weights pull the net down, he sits back carefully. He sniffs and pulls his knees up, resting his chin on them. Salty breeze finds its way under his shorts and loose shirt, making him shiver. His eyelids feel heavy in the serenity of the bay.

Nothing to be heard but the gulls’ cries. Yuuri positions himself to sit more comfortably on the thin plank, ready to sink his mind into sweet nothingness. Being alone at sea makes him feel something he’s never been able to express: an unfolded mystery of the cure for his restless thoughts.

It’s blank and soundless, senses drowned out. Yuuri closes his eyes, losing himself to the rocking. It feels like being hauled in and thrown back into the sea.

In a little while, he falls into a short, dreamless slumber.

 

Yuuri awakens with a jump, sea water splashing into his face. He takes his spotty glasses off and looks around sheepishly; the dark skies confuse him, so for a moment, he confuses day for night. Above the bay, angry rainclouds crush together, silent waves grow into hungry beasts. Yuuri’s lifted up by a billowing wave, feet rising up. He cries out and grabs the boat’s rail in the last minute, nails scratching on wood desperately. His glasses fall out of his hand and splash into the sea.

His heart is throbbing in his throat, in sync with the rumbling thunder. The storm reaches him in the blink of an eye; water pours on him like a waterfall, a wave slapping the oars out of his hand. Yuuri almost falls out as he leans over to catch them, but they stay stolen by the ocean. Just like one of the buckets and the net.

Panic strikes like the towering waves. The next beat lashes into him, pushing his head and chest into the sea. Yuuri breathes water and emerges with a wet gasp. He has no time to think, no time to act against the furious downpour. He clings to the rail and huddles up against the side, whole body shaking. A small voice in his mind whispers to him to grab  the bucket he still has with him and start to fight back, keep the boat afloat.

Yuuri whimpers, voice swallowed up by the roars. He knows sea storms are sudden and lethal - if he can stay alive for a little longer, he’ll be saved.

He peeks up at the sky, right when the next lightning strike illuminates the world. It lights up something inside Yuuri, too; he pushes himself up and grabs the bucket but-

The next billow is higher than the ones before - it knocks Yuuri right off his feet, pushing him underwater.

Everything goes black. Yuuri’s mouth and throat fills with salty seawater, burning his eyes and lungs. He manages to break the surface, fighting for air; the rain suffocates him just like the ocean, cold and cruel.

When he sees the waves shove the boat towards him, it’s too late. The stern knocks him in the temple, pain spreading in Yuuri’s brain like wildfire.

He sinks again, limbs numb and mind foggy. His lips part, letting the water pour into his mouth with ease. He uses his remaining strength to fight with the urge to take a breath. Yuuri can’t decide whether he’s still sinking, floating, or not moving at all. He’s surrounded by darkness and dead silence, feeling nothing but the burning in his head and chest, and the slowly building pressure on his whole body.

His arms emerge before him, just like something small and light; Yuuri stares at it for seconds before he realises, what it is: the seashell he’s been unconsciously keeping for nine years, always hiding in his pocket wherever he went. The shell escaped and is floating right in front of him, pulsing softly in sync with Yuuri’s still-beating heart.

Suddenly, it stops moving and lights up, gleaming brighter than the lightning above. It sends pulses of turquoise light all over the undersea world, reaching much further than Yuuri can see.

Yuuri’s body is giving up on him, forcing him to breathe water and choke on it - as a cruel twist, he feels his mind clear up until he notices something moving towards him. The silhouette is growing fast: in the rhythmical beating of the seashell’s light, Yuuri recognises the creature he’s never believed to see again.

They reach him in the twinkling of an eye, and hold their hand out to touch Yuuri’s cheek, thumb caressing his bottom lip. Yuuri’s body is still in flames, but now his heart burns hotter. He’s twitching and shaking, certain about his brain playing cruel tricks on him. If this is death calling him, he decides, nothing matters anymore. He had his last wish granted: seeing that gorgeous face, white as bones; the silver hair floating around them like a cape; pale lips and irises bluer than the sea.

Yuuri jerks again, and finds himself in the arms of the creature, huddled up against their flat, slick chest. They push up with a whip of their forked fin, keeping Yuuri as close as possible.

“You’ll be alright,” they whisper into his ear, voice sounding much clearer underwater. Yuuri realises that their voice had changed as they grew; it got much deeper and softer, taking away the doubt of them being male. “I’m here now.”

They break the surface. Yuuri feels the air freshening his skin, crawling through him like pins and needles. The storm whisks; the sky clears up, the raindrops fade. The creature lifts him up higher and slides his hand to his scapula, gently pushing his torso forward.

Yuuri coughs up seawater, salt drying and hurting his throat. He’s shaking in his arms, grabbing his shoulders for balance.

“That’s it, darling,” he hums, stroking Yuuri’s hair now. “You’re doing great. Let it all out. You’re safe. You’re gonna be alright. It’s over.”

Yuuri’s lungs rattle as he gasps. His eyes bulge with the fear of never taking another breath again. He focuses on the creature’s hair under his palms, the strokes of his scaled fingers in his hair and cheek to calm himself, listening to nothing but his voice.

“You’re safe,” he repeats quietly, and Yuuri can finally ease the rhythm of his breathing. “That’s it. Just breathe. Just breathe. You’re doing so well. Everything is alright. You’re fine. Just breathe.”

Every intake of breath hurts, just like his temple, but his body is in desperate need of fresh air. He closes his eyes for a while, letting the creature's mantra flow through his veins. He still feels dizzy; just like before, as his body gains back its strength, his mind  seems to be floating away. Avoiding certain death and injuring his head pushes him into a state of stuporous, drunk-like dreaminess that makes him think he’s still hallucinating.

He moves his hands blindly, curling them around the creature’s neck and pulling him closer. He raises his chin, lips touching the cold skin. Yuuri hears his startled gasp, sounding closer to his ear than he expected.

Yuuri slowly opens his eyes and draws back a bit. That lovely face is right in front of him, those stunning eyes focusing on him and only him. It warms his aching chest in a way that he’s never experienced before.

If this is not real - and it’s too good to be true - then Yuuri has every right to do whatever he wants in his very last moments.

“Yuuri,” the creature sighs shakily, his voice sending goosebumps all down Yuuri’s spine.

His eyes focus on his slightly parted lips, trembling breath and drops of water pouring from them. Yuuri tilts his head, leaning even closer to him; he wants to swallow everything coming from that mouth, tasting the salt on those rosy lips.

“I missed you,” the creature confesses, closing his eyes like he’s in pain. Yuuri hates seeing that; he opens his mouth to say something, but all that escapes from his throat is a raspy croak. The creature looks at him again, pain dissolving from his face as he curls his lips into a soft smile. “Shh. Don’t speak just yet. Let me take you to the shore first, alright?”

Yuuri nods, features straining immediately. He touches his temple carefully, holding onto the creature with one arm.

As they start swimming back to safety, into the bassinet of the mountains, Yuuri’s head slowly clears up. Thoughts fill his mind once again, crawling back carefully, one at a time. The boat. His glasses. The magic seashell. The creature who holds him close, keeping his head above the water - the same gorgeous creature he’s been dreaming about since that night nine years ago. He’s here, and he’s more breathtaking than ever: Yuuri peeks up at him, memorising every feature, drinking up all the beauty he can take. The jawline became more dominant since that night they were both children, just like the curved nose. Cheekbones sharp and arched, and his neck - his neck looks like it’s been sculptured from marble.

The creature looks at him. Their eyes meet and Yuuri feels a blush blooming on his cheeks. The creature smiles with an expression that Yuuri can only call adoration; it makes his insides curl in pain.

“We’re almost there. Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Yuuri croaks, slowly finding his voice.

“Hang in there for a little longer.”

Yuuri swallows and hides his face back in the crook of his neck, inhaling his sharp scent. As the creature slows down, and Yuuri can feel wet sand under his feet, he subconsciously draws near to him, fingers holding onto his neck tighter.

They reach the shore. The creature lays Yuuri down in the shallow water and leans above him on his elbows. Even though Yuuri refuses to let go of him, it feels heavenly that the creature doesn’t try to draw back from him either.

Yuuri feels the heavy fin curled on his legs, the pressure of his chest, on his side. The creature smoothes Yuuri’s hair out of his face and leaves his fingers there, stroking him comfortingly.

“Can you walk?” he asks.

Before Yuuri can stop himself, he whispers:

“Better than you could.”

The creature laughs, his body passing the shakes onto Yuuri’s.

“I bet.” He glances away. “I wish I could stay longer, but…”

“Don’t go.”

He looks at Yuuri like his heart’s just shattered.

“I have to,” he forces himself to say, swallowing. “I can’t be seen. I brought you here because I know you’ll be found by someone, even if you’re still too weak to move.”

“Who are you?”

“What do you want me to be to you?” Yuuri squints at him, so he explains: “My kind can be whatever you humans wish for, so I’m asking you - what do you want me to be?”

“I want you to stay who you are,” Yuuri replies, letting his arms fall from the creature’s skin and splash into the water. “So tell me your name.”

“Viktor. My name is Viktor.”

Yuuri smiles faintly, exhaustion pinning his body down.

“Thank you for saving my life, Viktor.”

Viktor smiles back at him, sadness hiding in his eyes. He straightens his spine and Yuuri reaches out, fingertips touching Viktor’s hand. He looks back at him, azure irises flaring up. He turns his hand, palm up, and lets Yuuri decide whether he wants to slide his fingers between his.

When Yuuri moves after a moment of hesitation, Viktor winces and stares into the distance.

“What-”

Before he could finish that sentence, Viktor takes his hand and gently squeezes it, then turns around and dives into the sea in a heartbeat.

Yuuri can’t even process what had just happened before he realises what caused Viktor’s sudden escape. He hears footsteps coming from behind him. He turns to his side and pushes himself up; drawing up his legs requires way more willpower than he thought.

As he raises his head, he faces Mari: she’s running towards him barefoot, half-smoked cigarette in hand.

She drops onto her knees in front of him, free hand clenching and punching Yuuri in the shoulder, then pulling him into a one-armed embrace. The cigarette falls out of her hand, sizzling in the sand.

“Don’t let this be our thing,” she pants, hanging her head down. “Thank god you’re alive. Are you hurt? Can you walk? What happened?”

“I’m alright,” Yuuri says. “My head hurts… the boat knocked me out. I think I can walk.”

“Did you swim back here alone after being knocked out? That’s impressive.”

Yuuri decides to keep the truth unsaid instead of getting into another argument about Viktor’s existence. Since they parted ways again, there’s no wonder or affection left in him. Instead, he just feels dried out, empty, and guilty.

“I lost the boat. And everything inside. I’m sorry.”

“Who the hell cares about that now?” Mari sighs, shaking her head. “Come on, Yuuri, no one blames you. Stop it. Here, lean on me. Let’s try to stand up, alright? Careful. Careful, damnit.”

Yuuri’s head turns when he stands up, lurching and holding onto Mari tighter. The waves crash into their ankles, sunshine warming their backs as the skies clear at last.

“Don’t get into fights with boats again,” Mari suggests, leading Yuuri with firm hands. “You look pale. Want to slow down?”

“No, I’m-” Yuuri clips his words. He turns away and stoops, throwing up onto the burning sand.

He feels Mari’s cool fingers on his forehead before the horizon turns upside down.

 

The next day, Yuuri awakens after the worst night of his entire life. He threw up twice, suffering from constant headache and dizziness. He couldn’t eat or stay standing for too long. Throughout the nightmares of brain concussion, the only thing he could think about was  Viktor - and the dreadful realisation that he might never see him again.

Yuuri didn’t know what he should do to find him again. The magical shell seemed like the one thing that could have lead him, but that’s gone forever, laying at the bottom of the ocean along with his glasses. Lost. Forgotten.

The seething thoughts didn’t help him recover any sooner. The fear of losing Viktor right after he finally found him (or rather, Viktor found him) after all these years has been eating him alive.

He can’t give a name to the feeling that laces him to Viktor, he only knows that being away from him feels suffocating;  like he’s choking on water again.

Someone knocks on his door, just as Yuuri pushes himself up in the bed.

“Come in,” he says, and the door opens.

“Good morning, honey.” Hiroko chirps, stepping into the room with a tray. “I brought you breakfast. Can you eat?”

“I think so. Thank you."

She puts the tray in Yuuri’s lap, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed.

“How are you?”

“Much better.”

“How is your head?”

“I don’t have a headache anymore. Not feeling nauseous either.”

“Thank god.” She seems hesitant to ask Yuuri the next question. “Do you think you can work today?”

“Yes. Sure. I feel fine.”

Hiroko smiles and pats Yuuri’s hand.

“Thank you, darling. I wouldn’t ask you to if you’re not feeling well, but we need a helping hand today. We’re still so busy after the terrible weather, you know.”

Yuuri nods. He’s chewing on a toast like he’s not all there. The bread tastes like ash on his tongue.

“When you’re finished, could you clean the rooms on the second floor? We have some new guests staying there, one of them arrived right before dawn.”

Yuuri hums, toast in mouth.

“Is that so?”

Hiroko senses the inkling in Yuuri’s voice. She chuckles and shakes her head.

“No need to worry about it! He’s really nice. I think he must be foreign, traveling here from far away. He’s really handsome.”

“Mom...”

Hiroko shrugs delightedly.

“You’ll see for yourself when he wakes up. Poor thing, must be exhausted.”

Yuuri doesn’t answer.

 

After finishing his breakfast, he heads to the kitchen to bring back the tray and cutlery. The kitchen’s empty and quiet; he’s arrived after breakfast is served, too early to start making lunch. The guest are outside in the garden, voices murmuring and laughs rolling. He’s grateful for not meeting anyone on his way, not even when he goes into the back room, getting a bucket of water and the usual cleaning supplies.

He climbs the stairs with those in both hands, carefully without his glasses, forcing himself to clear his mind. He was unable to chase the thoughts away all morning; everything he does  feels mechanical and half-hearted. Knowing he can’t work unfocused, the misery of not doing his best strikes.

By the time he reaches the first room of the second floor, he feels like he’s ready to forget everything that’s not connected to the task at hand. Yuuri straightens his spine, exhales slowly through his mouth and knocks on the door.

No answer.

Yuuri knocks again, saying something this time.

“Good morning! I’m here to clean your room. May I come in?”

There’s still no answer. Yuuri turns the doorknob; it’s not locked. Yuuri swallows his nervousness and opens the door completely, then closes it behind him, only to watch a man rise from the bed, wearing nothing but golden sunlight on his skin.

Yuuri drops the bucket and smashes his back into the door.

The man turns his head towards the noise, short silver hair following his moves a heartbeat later. His glance slides up to Yuuri’s face immediately, blossoming into something warm and bright. Yuuri feels naked to the unfamiliar gaze, too; it’s like he’s being exposed inch by inch, skin tingling from head to toe.

His whole face is flaming up.

“I-I’m so sorry, I… I shouldn’t have…”

The man turns to him and laughs softly. He holds both of his hands up, and says:

“No, please. It’s fine. Stay.”

“I… shouldn’t…”

“I insist. Look.” He grabs the robe from the chair by the windows and puts it on. His voice is trembling with repressed laughter. “You can put your hands down now. I look appropriate.”

Yuuri gasps. He didn’t realise he’d covered his eyes with his palms at some point. He slowly lowers them, peeking up at the man’s face. He cannot ignore the fact that although the guest had put on the robe, he didn’t care about tying it; the green silk only covers his shoulders and sides.

The guest steps closer, standing right in front of him. He tilts his head and smiles at him softly, features melting into something strangely intimate and adoring. It confuses Yuuri to the core.

“Hello,” the man says after a while, like nothing had happened; he pulls Yuuri out of of his daydreams and offers a hand. Yuuri feels the blush deepening into a velvety color. “I’m Viktor.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yuuri mutters, taking his hand but not shaking it. “I’m Yuuri.”

Viktor smiles brighter than ever, lips opening up to reveal his teeth. He doesn’t bother pulling his hand back; the warm pressure of his fingers beguiles Yuuri.

“What a lovely name. I know another Yuri, but he’s so different from you.”

Yuuri finds himself laughing, wondering how Viktor would know what he’s like. Instead of expressing that concern, he replies:

“I like your name too. I’ve never met a Viktor before.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I like your name too. I’ve never met a Viktor before.”

Viktor’s smile doesn’t fade, the sparkling in his eyes flames up with cabalistic victory, like being Yuuri’s first in any way would fill him with complacency. Yuuri has to force his palm out of his grip, not because it’s improperly firm, but because he can’t seem to bereave himself from the warmth of Viktor’s skin.

Yuuri clears his throat softly, barely making any noise. His gaze starts searching for the supplies he had dropped, fidgeting when he realises the bucket had knocked over. The soapy water poured onto the floor, bubbles popping.

Yuuri whimpers.

“Oh my. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, so it’s not how it’s usually done?” Viktor chirps, sounding sincere. Yuuri stares back at him, eyebrows pinched. His query does seem sincere.

 _Who_ is _he?_

“I just happen to have an unusual working method.”

“Ah, I see! Show me.”

“Uh-”

Viktor comes ‘round, leaning down to get the bucket and the sponge. When he straightens, the robe slides down from moving too eagerly. Yuuri’s still glaring at the sharp curve of Viktor’s shoulder when he spins back on his heels and holds the sponge up in front of Yuuri’s face.

“Please. I shall learn from the best.”

Yuuri tears everything out of Viktor’s hand, huddling up on himself. When he opens his mouth, his words have harsher edges than he wished.

“What do you mean by that?”

Viktor puckers his lips, tilting his head. The robe is getting wrinkled around his elbow. Stabbing pain tightens Yuuri’s chest, heart trying to catch up after skipping a beat. His fingers are tingling to smooth the hair away from that marble-carved face.

“Your family hasn’t told you yet?”

Yuuri’s thoughts are frisking around in his skull; a dizzying sensation.

“Hasn’t told me what? I’m not… following. Apologies.”

“No, no, darling, don’t blame yourself.” Viktor reaches out to touch him, and Yuuri winces back. A soft noise escapes Viktor’s throat, fingers curling. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know. I know. But could you just…”

Viktor swallows and pulls his hand back, touching his own chin. His eyes ferret something on Yuuri’s face, gentle and wounded.

“Forgive me. I’m rather irreverent, aren’t I? I haven’t encountered many of your kind.”

Yuuri crinkles his nose at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Not in a derogatory way, I can assure you!” Viktor hurries to add, features straining in dismay. He awaits Yuuri’s reply; when he stays quiet, Viktor exhales slowly. “May I be honest with you, Yuuri? I don’t know how to explain myself to you.”

Yuuri mumbles, quickly interrupting Viktor’s rhapsodic mind:

“What have my parents not told me?”

“Oh.” Viktor clears his throat and gestures towards the bed. “For that, I think you should take a seat.”

Yuuri shakes his head.

Viktor presents a smile, fainter and smaller than the ones before; its flicker doesn’t even reach the blue of his eyes. He sits himself on the edge of the bed, slender legs crossed, robe coming undone around his waist. He straightens and presses his fingertips together in his lap; when he finally speaks, his voice sounds raspy and low, words nearly tumbling off of his lips.

“I’m a traveler. I journeyed across the mountains, arriving in your town last night. As I crossed the forest near the town walls, bandits attacked and looted me. I was robbed of my belongings; money and clothes as well.”

“That’s horrible,” Yuuri mutters.

Viktor’s throat bobs as he swallows, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips.

“Yes,” he breathes. “I was sure I had met my fate.” His eyes found Yuuri’s, glances entwining. “Have you ever felt that, Yuuri? Have you looked death right in the eyes?”

Splashing... Blunt pain, spreading across his skull... Salt burning in his lungs...

“I have.”

Viktor’s eyes soften. He pats the bed next to him again, and Yuuri feels like the tar in his veins is melting away: he can finally force himself to take careful steps, turning on his heels and sinking into the mattress and the warmth of Viktor’s sun-cradled body. He keeps his head straight, only peeking at Viktor’s profile.

“Tell me about it,” Viktor asks of him, fingers gripping the bedsheet next to Yuuri’s hand. The space between their hands grows again as Yuuri slides his palms onto his knees.

“There’s not much to talk about,” Yuuri whispers, hiding his glance. He feels the bed quiver as Viktor breathes a chuckle.

“You facing death is not worth mentioning?”

“There’s nothing unusual about it.”

“Sea storms aren’t unusual, I give you that. Surviving one alone, however...”

Cold sweat slicks Yuuri’s palms. Breath hitching, he finally turns towards Viktor and fixes him with widening eyes.

“I… I haven’t said it happened at sea.”

The corner of Viktor’s lips twitch, curling into a teasing half-smirk.

“I’ve asked your family about you. Excuse my imprudence, I didn’t mean to pry. I wished to know more about this place, your family, and of course, you. Your sister didn’t mind telling me all about you. She thought the same as I do- to work together, we shall keep no secrets between us.”

Viktor’s smile blossoms at the confusion drawn clearly on Yuuri’s features.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he goes on, turning his whole body toward Yuuri’s. “As I told you, I got robbed. I have nothing on me to pay for your family’s services as long as I’m staying here. I proffered to work for room and board, but I need guidance. This might surprise you, but I have never done any housekeeping work before…”

Yuuri swallows down the wrong pipe, coughing slightly.

“...But I pledge my honour to work as hard as I can to please you.”

Yuuri stops coughing like realisation slapped him. His glance still wishes to wander around the exposed patches of milky skin before answering, and Yuuri defers to its will against his mind’s. As it reaches Viktor’s face, Yuuri’s own skin starts to tingle- Viktor’s cheeks are lightly rose-tinted, lips parting right under his Cupid’s bow.

“Is that,” Viktor’s voice cracks. He clears his throat and gathers himself together. “Is that an acceptable offer for you?”

“Yes. I think so.”

Viktor lets out a shaky, relieved sigh. He clasps his palms together in joy, smile so wide that it puffs up his cheeks.

“Perfect! Shall we begin?”

“Right now?”

Viktor stands up and reaches out to take Yuuri’s hand; he realises his mistake right away and draws back before Yuuri could flinch and protest. Viktor’s eyes flash with apologetic light.

“It’s already working hours for you, right? It’s the same for me, then.” When Yuuri doesn’t move, he adds: “I can’t wait to work with you, Yuuri.”

Those words break something in Yuuri. He lets his shoulders drop, tension released from his muscles as he giggles. He hides his mouth behind his fingertips, as if he’s ashamed of his own voice, and peeks up at Viktor.

“You have to put some clothes on for that, I’m afraid,” he says, quiet and half-hearted.

Viktor beams at the mischief buried in his voice. He straightens his spine, painfully aware of the movements of the robe as he snaps back:

“I’m not sure that that’s what our hearts truly wish for, but. Of course.”

 

⚓

 

Showing Viktor how to clean should have been an easy task. Yuuri had laughed at him before, even though in theory, that was just him laughing with him, given Viktor’s peculiar sense of humour. After two minutes that felt like hours, Yuuri realised that Viktor did not embellish the fact that he’d never seen any cleaning supplies in his whole life, yet alone held any.

A room the size of Viktor’s usually took Yuuri twenty minutes to clean, sweeping and wiping and washing included. With a helping hand, they finished in an hour. Yuuri can’t blame the delay on Viktor’s lack of enthusiasm: he was chatting constantly, wanting to know everything about the task at hand and about Yuuri as well. With anyone else, Yuuri would have felt the weight of socializing and clammed up eventually, wishing for the other to keep quiet. He found himself getting invested in the conversation, answering all of Viktor’s questions with ease and honesty. He queried him in return, mostly just listening to Viktor’s smooth voice and stealing glances.

Viktor seemed to answer with an unusual style of sharing. Yuuri couldn’t decide what felt so strange about Viktor’s wording, only now that they have just finished, dropping the sponges into the bucket after scrubbing the wooden floor. As Yuuri sighs and forgets himself in the sight of Viktor wiping his forehead with his shirt, realisation hits him. Viktor had talked so much to him, about himself, yet Yuuri knows so little about his life. Viktor has a tendency to talk too much, using it as a shield to share more than necessary to earn trust. Yuuri tries to piece the information together, dropped in between compliments and shared jokes.

Viktor is a traveler. He’s not much older than Yuuri. He’s never journeyed across this part of the kingdoms. He has no family, and he spends most of his time alone. The last thing sounds the most bizarre according to Yuuri’s judgement: how could someone so lonely lure Yuuri into an entrancing conversation? How could he break down his walls, gently stepping into his space? Yuuri feels a bit dazed; maybe the aftermath of his concussion, maybe Viktor’s alluring presence.

Yuuri closes his eyes. He scrambles to his feet and stumbles right away.

He hears Viktor’s soft gasp and the slaps of his bare soles. Viktor grabs his elbow with one hand, the other arm curled around Yuuri’s waist. He cradles him with a gentle touch and his pulsing warmth. Pain strikes through Yuuri’s temples and eyes; he hisses and presses his fingers to his skin.

“Are you alright?” Viktor whispers, voice sounding closer than Yuuri expected. He doesn’t dare open his eyes. “Yuuri.”

“Yes… I’m fine.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I… no. It’s just… my head.”

Viktor releases Yuuri’s elbow to stroke the hair out of his face, leaving his fingertips on his forehead. The path of his fingers leaves soothing, burning marks on Yuuri’s skin.

“Because of your accident?” he keeps on asking.

“No. Not… entirely.” Yuuri takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. Viktor stares back at him, eyes slightly frantic behind loose tufts, lower lip quivering. Yuuri feels the urge to laugh at him, confusing Viktor even more. “I’m sorry- your face.”

“What about my face?”

“You look funny.”

Viktor huffs, sounding still confused with an undertone of piqued curiosity.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri echoes, shaking his head then regretting it immediately. His escaping whimper softens Viktor’s features again. “I think it’s my eyes… I. I actually wear glasses. I just… lost them. Yesterday. Straining my eyes gives me headaches sometimes… without them, it’s just getting worse, I believe.”

Viktor hums sympathetically, not making any attempts to keep his hands off of Yuuri. As something crosses his mind, the blue of his eyes shines up. Yuuri frowns at him.

“Wait here,” Viktor breathes, hesitating for a heartbeat before stepping away.

Yuuri’s vision is overcome by mist as Viktor hurries to the end of the room, tiptoeing on the wet floor with ridiculously careful steps. Yuuri hears rustling and a quiet knock before Viktor dances back to him, something shining between his fingers. Yuuri squints at it, it’s translucid and blue and-

“Those are my glasses!”

“Really?” Viktor opens up the arms and holds them up. “I found them washed up on the shore… I don’t know why I took them. I have a tendency to keep things I find. Maybe that’s why highwaymen find me fanciable.” He looks into Yuuri’s eyes, mellow smile on his lips. “Take them. They’re yours, after all.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri says, not reaching for them immediately. Viktor sees the hesitance as it is: a speechless request and permission.

He takes another step, pushing the arms over Yuuri’s ears delicately. When the glasses are in their place, he slides his finger over the shell of Yuuri’s ear, stroking him as if it was an accident.

“Here,” he says, dropping his hands. “Better?”

Yuuri adjust the glasses.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Do I still look attractive, now that you can see me clearly?”

Yuuri chuckles and shakes his head. The pain is slowly dissolving.

“I don’t remember calling you attractive.”

“You didn’t have to say it out loud.”

The familiar burn crawls up on Yuuri’s cheeks. Viktor senses he had crossed the line and hauls off, only to find Yuuri faintly smirking without any desire to deny it out loud.

“We should go,” he says instead, looking away. “We have a lot to do today.”

Viktor says nothing, but nods.

 

⚓

 

When they leave the second bedroom nearly forty minutes later, they cross Mari right in front of the door. She’s carrying a burly basket of laundry, clothes and bedsheets piling up so high she needs to maneuver across the hallway sideways.

She hears them chattering and laughing, lowering the basket in hand.

“Yuuri?” she calls out, voice unsure.

“Yes.”

Mari decides to put the basket down and squeezes her lower back with a painful frown. She squints at the two of them, eyeing Viktor sheepishly.

“Wait, have you just finished the second bedroom? It’s almost noon.”

Yuuri bites his lip guiltily.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hardly think it’s your fault,” Mari shrugs, still glaring at Viktor. Something harsh flashes in her eyes for a moment. “We may have taken you in in exchange for your work but we can’t accept a helping hand that’s not actually helping.” She looks back at Yuuri, nudging him. “Come with me, please. I need your help with the laundry. You can deal with the rest yourself, can’t you, Viktor?”

Yuuri makes a weak sound, Viktor’s bright smile is the only thing setting his heart to rest. Viktor nods to Mari, taking the rest of supplies out of Yuuri’s hands.

“Of course. Forgive me for my incompetence. I’m going to work hard to avoid putting your business to shame.”

Mari sniffs, a little more relaxed.

“We’re counting on you. Come on, Yuuri.”

Yuuri obeys and grabs one of the basket’s handles.

 

⚓

 

“You think I was rude to him,” Mari says, grabbing the lye soap and rubbing the last dirty bedsheet with it.

They are sitting by the tiny creek in the back garden of the inn, sleeves rolled up, legs spread. Mari doesn’t look at Yuuri when she speaks to him, making him jump a little. They made their way outside in complete silence after parting with Viktor, and have been doing most of the laundry with the same mumchance calm surrounding them. Yuuri was listening to the quiet rippling and the faraway murmur of the guests chatting on the porch, enjoying the warmth of the sun high on the mackerel sky.

Yuuri adjusts his glasses with his shoulder, not wanting to make them soapy. He says nothing, and Mari takes his silence as a “yes”.

“You’d be right. I was,” she continues then, rubbing the cloth harder. “Listen. You didn’t see him when he arrived. Mom and dad might trust him, because they couldn’t speak to him, but I think there’s something really… odd about him. Don’t you feel that?”

Yuuri still keeps quiet, but Mari catches a glimpse of his face, sunlight breaking on his glasses. She knows they think the same thing.

“I want you to be really careful around him. He might just give off a strange atmosphere that makes me question his truthfulness, but...”

“Why did you tell him about me then?” Yuuri murmurs.

“Tell him what?”

“About yesterday. About the storm. If he’s not to be trusted, then why spill anything about me?”

Mari hums and turns his back to Yuuri to squeeze the water out of the sheet. The dirty water splashes into a barrel, pouring down the sides. Yuuri follows the rivulets as they drip into the grass, shining on the blades like crystal while Mari puts the wet cloth onto another pile.

“That was wrong of me, I guess,” Mari replies then, drying her hands on her pants and pulling a cigarette out of her shirt pocket. As she lights it up, her words become distorted. “I didn’t mean to share too much. I thought that maybe if we’re open with him, he’ll be more open with us. But... I had no right to tell him things about you that you didn’t approve of. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I know you think it is. Doesn’t mean you’re right about that.” Mari lets out a sigh of hazy breath, fume twirling in front of her face. “Although…”

Mari keeps quiet to collect her thoughts, taking another drag of her cigarette. Yuuri swallows and reaches out to squeeze water into the barrel like Mari did.

“How did you get your glasses back?” she asks suddenly, making Yuuri drop the pillowcase. He truly wishes Mari hadn’t noticed, silly wish it may be.

“Viktor found them,” he stammers, pushing the pillowcase back into the soapy water. The cloth spouts dirt under the foamy whirls. “On the shore.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“He said he usually just keeps things he finds. And that maybe that… is why he became a target.”

Mari makes a disbelieving face.

“Sounds like something he would say about theft.”

“Do you think…”

“Yes?”

“Do you think he lied? About getting attacked? Or do you think that he’s a thief himself?”

Mari shrugs. She curls her toes in the grass, resting her elbow on her knee.

“I don’t want to accuse him of anything, Yuuri. And I didn’t mean to make you change your feelings about him. It just sounds unusual to me that he says he has nothing on him but appears to possess things that are not actually his.”

“I don’t have any feelings about him.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Mari grunts, biting on her cigarette. “I saw how you acted when he was around.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, then closes it. His voice is stuck in the back of his throat, escaping as a quiet whimper. Mari snickers at him, rubbing his face with the back of her hand.

“You misunderstood. Or maybe I did. All I’m saying is… Watch your back. Okay?”

“Okay,” Yuuri promises and scrambles to his feet.

Mari follows him, putting the cigarette out and reaching for the basket.

“Leave it to me,” Yuuri asks of her.

“Don’t want to go back inside just yet?”

“I’m happy to help.”

Mari sees through him. She pats him on the back, thanking him and taking her leave. Yuuri watches her as she walks back into the inn, grass rustling under her soles.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and grabs the basket. He doesn’t need to carry the heavy clothes far, the ropes used to dry laundry stretched tight between two burly trees near the creek.

The light breeze caresses his cheeks, cooling his skin. He sinks into his thoughts, clipping up the dripping sheets without paying attention to the task at hand. Mari’s words hover in his mind; he feels like his heart is pulled down by them like dead weight. He knows she’s right- she’s almost always right - but her blunt frankness had always muddled Yuuri. She keeps him down to earth when Yuuri flies too close to the sun, already melting. It used to vex him, when he didn’t know better: Mari’s remonstrance broke something inside of him, skinning him until he was naked and shivering. It took him years to realise Mari’s love for him is based on protecting him from himself at all costs, but it eased neither his mind nor his heart. Pique is burning inside of him as always, wishing Mari would put more faith in him.

Yuuri doesn’t understand what he did wrong, and it’s eating him alive. As he thinks back, he feels like he had done the right thing with accepting Viktor’s offer and helping him any way he can. Whatever feelings Mari talked about, she’s wrong. Yuuri always puts his job before anything and anyone else, and taking Viktor in wasn’t his idea in the first place. With him here, nothing’s changed. Yuuri wants nothing than to move on with his daily schedules while guiding Viktor as well.

Did Mari not understand that he’s doing nothing but what they have asked of him? If it was his idea, he wouldn’t volunteer to teach someone what the mysterious sponge is for. Could it really be his fault that he tries to understand the man himself so he can not be distracted by the nervousness that follows his every interaction with strangers, especially if their job is to listen and pay attention to his every word?

And all those accusations… Mari did not say anything specifically, but how can she possibly think she knows Viktor better than Yuuri does, when only one of them had spent enough time with him to actually get to know him? Even if they had spoken the night before, the time Yuuri spent with Viktor was completely different. Viktor had opened up to him. He told him more about himself than Mari knew, she has no right to believe Yuuri doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Yuuri clips the last sheet to the ropes and takes a step back. He dries the sweat on his forehead, squinting in the rising sunlight. The sun crept even higher on the sky, shadows shrinking back.

He decides to round the inn instead of going inside through the back door like Mari did. He knows that the garden must be full of guests, but even their presence seems even more comfortable than his family’s.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and takes the basket with him. He walks on fresh grass before stepping on the wide cobbled path, weaving under the arch of steel and rose shrubs. He’s followed by lazy bees and the rustling of leaves, sunshine only dripping on him with little drops of light. He’s always found this little path of wonders serene and comforting, not in the same way as the sea - this feels more isolating, caging. It melts the sensation of loneliness and aloneness into one, violently changing between the two. He’s hidden from the people wandering in the garden, hidden from the world outside. The sea only expands the horizon he looks upon, while the path crops him out of it.

He walks through here when he wants to disappear. He choses the sea if he wants everything else to disappear. And now, he can’t even think of the seashore without his blood freezing in his veins and his hands shaking.

As he steps out to the porchway, he finds himself surrounded by less people than he expected. There’s only five or six people chatting quietly at a wooden table, one of them leaning on the rail to keep an eye on the maelstrom of villagers on the streets.

Yuuri follows their eyes’ path, spotting a familiar horse cart. He brings the basket with him to meet the neighbor who provides them fresh-baked goods, some spices and buttermilk for the restaurant.

The man guides the cart toward the porchway, making a turn to stop the horse right in front of Yuuri. He reaches out to pat the horse’s neck, complimenting her. His kindness earns him a delighted snort and a headshake.

“Good morning,” the man grins at Yuuri, hopping down from the seat.

Yuuri nods back faintly.

“You’re pretty late, Takeshi.”

Takeshi laughs, voice buff and full of life. He pats Yuuri on the back as hard as he did with his horse, making Yuuri stoop forward a bit.

“It’s my girls…” he says, tipping his hat back. “Beautiful little beasts. They tried to change the sacks so you’ll only get salt and no sugar. It took me a long time to change them back. How could they even lift them? It’s a mystery. Yuuko was breathing fire.”

“I’m… I’m glad you realised,” Yuuri swallows, trying not to give away the impression of him actually being scared of Takeshi’s triplets sometimes. They are… spirited, to say the least. And they get more and more mercurial as they grow up. Yuuri doesn’t want to know the tricks they’re gonna pull when they are older; he can only hope they like him enough to spare him, because if not, he might just have to move out of town.

“They all miss you, you know. You haven’t been our guest for so long, they’re afraid you forgot us.”

“I was very busy,” Yuuri mutters.

“Well, once you’re not so busy, we’d love to have you to dinner. Friday, next week? At dusk?”

“I, uh…”

“I’m glad we could arrange something,” Takeshi chimes in and Yuuri feels defeated. Seeing his expression, Takeshi hurries to add: “I got you a surprise in return. For the inconvenience.”

“Oh.”

Takeshi winks at him and grabs the cloth covering the wagon. As he pulls it down, a brown head pops up and two arms, thrown up to the sky in joy.

“Yuuri!” the newcomer shouts brightly, and Yuuri feels his lips curl into a smile.

“Phichit! Welcome back,” he greets him as well, rounding the cart to help Phichit get off.

“It’s been so long! I really missed this place.”

Phichit sticks the tip of his tongue out as he tries to slalom between the sacks, careful not to scratch anything. It must be hard to move with the enormous leather backpack, countless pockets and bags hanging from it, all packed to the brim.

While Phichit suffers to get out from his hideout, Yuuri can slowly see all the changes his friend has gone through since the last time they saw each other. It’s strange to think it’s been years, even though they’d only just met then.

One night, nearly four years ago, Phichit came into the inn on his journey to the forest up on the chain of mountains surrounding the area. Yuuri remembers how vocal he was about his quests and the journals and books he’d been writing about mythical creatures.Yuuri knew he was a foreigner right away; around here, even mentioning the unknown would earn pity and discomfort from the villagers.

The first time Yuuri served him dinner, Phichit noticed him staring at his open books and handwritten notes. He grinned up at him, skin turning from tawny to gold in the faint glow of the candles and Yuuri knew his life was about to change.

“Where did you two meet?” Yuuri asks, reaching out to take Phichit’s backpack so he can jump down easily.

“I found him on my way here,” Takeshi says, joining Yuuri. As Phichit hands them the stuffed sack with probably every belonging he’s ever had, Yuuri feels his knees collapse. The different sized pockets and sacks jingle and crash together. He needs Takeshi’s help to keep the backpack off of the ground. “My god, did you stack rocks in this thing?”

Phichit laughs, hopping down and releasing them from the weight. Takeshi’s eyes bulge at the sight of him putting it on again with nothing but one elegant, graceful move. Phichit and Yuuri share a smile; Yuuri’s well aware of Phichit’s strength when it comes to carrying anything he needs for his passion.

“Takeshi was kind enough to offer me a ride here once I told him I was heading here,” Phichit chitters.

“I thought you needed help. Looks like I was wrong.”

“No, no. Thank you very much for your help. And say hello to the girls for me!”

Phichit reaches out to shake Takeshi’s hand. Takeshi takes it, then nods and says his goodbyes to them, turning his attention back to the carriage.

As he starts unloading, Yuuri catches Phichit’s still shining smile, returning it mildly.

“I’ll check if the room you used to stay in is occupied. Apologies in advance; because of the storms, we are actually packed…”

“It’s alright. I’ll sleep anywhere.”

Yuuri leads the way and Phichit follows him, steps crisper than Yuuri remembers. Phichit had always been made of glowing energy and warmth, but this time, he seems different. Yuuri can see he’s almost bubbling with anticipation, still he doesn’t want to flood Yuuri with his words. That’s another thing he’s so grateful for; Phichit always knew his boundaries and never tried to cross them. His perception and empathy makes him perfect for Yuuri’s company, always pleasant and never nagging. Phichit has been the only one he met and got to know that doesn’t have that concerned light in his eyes whenever he looks into his.

“How was your journey?” Yuuri finally asks when they step inside. He puts the basket away before looking for a room key on the wall in the hall.

He can’t see Phichit’s face, but his voice almost breaks from titillation.

“Incredible! I have so much to talk to you about.” Phichit steps closer to him, lowering his voice so no one else can hear them. “I have news for you.”

Yuuri unhooks the last key to a spare room, and peeks back at him over his shoulder. Phichit frowns when he sees confusion spreading all over Yuuri’s face.

“There’s only one room left for you to stay,” Yuuri says quickly, shaking the key on his finger. “Room fourteen. First floor, fourth room on your right.”

Phichit nods, smile slightly melting away. He takes the keys and winks at Yuuri, suddenly realising something Yuuri didn’t.

“Escort me?”

“I still have something to do,” Yuuri tries weakly. The tone of Phichit’s voice sounded unsearchable; he acted like he expected Yuuri to say something or react differently, and Yuuri cannot deal with disappointment anymore. Not this time.

“Can’t you take a little break? I saw you were done with laundry.” When Yuuri doesn’t reply right away, Phichit pouts a little. “Please. Yuuri, please.”

Yuuri looks around as if he’s planning to escape. He takes a deep breath and looks back at Phichit, whose lips are still pressed together in anticipation.

“You should settle in first,” Yuuri says, looking away so he doesn’t need to see the fire going out in Phichit’s eyes.

“You’re right. Let me arrange my notes first.” Yuuri finally dares to look up, seeing the corner of Phichit’s lips curl. “I won’t let you get away from this. I know you must be frightened but we are in this together. I did this for you, now please do this for me. Let me tell you everything. You owe yourself to know, Yuuri!”

Yuuri watches Phichit step closer to him and put his palms on Yuuri’s shoulders, trying to walk the nerve up in him.

“Come on.”

“I- Phichit, I don’t understand,” Yuuri confesses with a quiet whine.

Phichit squeezes Yuuri’s shoulders tighter, then his palms slide up to the side of Yuuri’s neck. He looks deep into his eyes, and Yuuri feels like his soul is overflowing as Phichit’s eyes promise to speak wonders.

“I found them, Yuuri,” he breathes. “I found your creature.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter title: got me on your hook ;)
> 
> Oh my god hi, I know I'm late af. As always, life decided to happen when I wanted nothing more than to work on this, but I'm here they're queer and I do hope you enjoyed reading! Thank you so much for sticking with me on this journey, I love you all. ♥A♥
> 
> Please share your thoughts with me here, scream at me on [[tumblr]](http://captaincuppy.tumblr.com/)  
> //or just send me a message in a bottle and I'll be sure to check in with my pirate pals  
> My still and forever gorgeous beta was [[esoterrible]](http://esoterrible.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

Yuuri takes a deep breath through his mouth and keeps the air in his lungs as he counts to ten. Phichit’s warm hands on his skin are his connection to the world around him.

“It’s okay, Yuuri,” Phichit whispers, thumbs stroking him softly. “I know. Believe me, I do. I’m not pressuring you into anything, alright? Just breathe.”

Yuuri tears his glance away. He wants to explain himself, he does, but his mind won’t let him turn this all around. His breathing’s far from hitched, his palms sweaty, still steady. He can’t find the right words to explain himself to Phichit who clearly misunderstands.

“Let’s give us some time,” Phichit continues. “I tell you what. I’m going up to my room now, and I’m going to settle in. You’re going to go back to your original schedule, doing whatever you had planned before I arrived. I’ll meet you in your room after lunch is served. You have a break then, right? Is that okay with you?”

Yuuri’s still silent for a minute, Phichit waiting for him patiently. Finally, he licks his lips and looks back at him, finding solace in those dark eyes.

“Yes,” he croaks, and Phichit shines a gentle smile at him before taking a step back.

“See you at lunch?”

“Sure.”

“Alright.” Phichit adjusts his leather backpack and takes the key from Yuuri’s fingers. “Promise me something. Engage yourself in something else. Don’t think about this until we meet up later. Even then, it’s only up to you when you want to talk about it.”

With that, Phichit turns on his heels and starts climbing the stairs, backpack jingling and thumping. Yuuri is following him with his eyes until Phichit takes a turn on the first floor and disappears behind the stone wall. He didn’t even realise that he was holding his breath; he exhales through his nose, blinking slowly. His palm slides to his chest, legs forced to take a step towards the kitchen.

As he pushes the door in, the mess inside steals his mind away from the conversation. His mother waves at him, stirring something steamy in a huge pot. Yuuri unhooks a deep blue apron from the coat peg and ties it around his waist.

“Grab some bowls, honey,” Hiroko chips.

Yuuri turns towards the cupboards without a word. The wooden bowls knock into each other as he balances them in his hands. Mari is right behind him with a ladle, waiting for him to serve the soup.

“Four orders so far,” Mari says, answering his question before he even asked.

Yuuri nods to himself and lays the bowls out on the countertop. Mari pours two ladleful of soup into each of them, glance flickering between the deep bowls and Yuuri. Yuuri’s grateful for the steam that spreads on his glasses, eyes safe and hidden behind.

Once Mari’s finished, he puts all the bowls on his arms with practised moves and turns on his heel immediately.

“Table two and eight,” Mari snaps, making him jitter.

He hears her frustrated sigh as he opens the swing door with his shoulder, stepping out the dining hall. It’s still pretty empty, several seats untaken. Four people are chatting quietly, two drawn back at the small, round table near the corner and two sitting by the huge windows, occupying a table for six, possibly waiting for other people to join them.

Yuuri serves the two young men in the corner, completely engaged in each other and their conversation. The shorter one grins widely at Yuuri, pale face covered in freckles and light brown hair curling softly on his forehead. The other thanks Yuuri in a soft voice, eyes never leaving his companion. Yuuri’s heart warms at the sight and he finds himself smiling at them as well as he puts the bowls in front of them and wish them a pleasant time.

A completely different aura surrounds the other table. Yuuri hears a muttered argument, his steps get softer as he approaches. The two youngsters seem to be around his age, faces looking deceivingly alike - they even dress the same way, wearing short, dark trousers and simple white shirts with pushed up sleeves. The man is explaining something to the girl, gestures wide and rough. The girl sighs and turns her head, facing Yuuri; her expression lightens up immediately.

She presses her palms together in delight. “Look Mickey, our knight in shining armour!” She lowers her voice as Yuuri steps even closer, pretending to whisper. “My brother gets insufferable when hungry, you really are my savior today.”

“I do not,” the brother - Mickey - complains, but his eyes dart to the steamy bowls in Yuuri’s hand.

“I’m happy to help,” Yuuri says shyly, placing the bowl in front of the girl. He earns a gentle smile and a wink in return, and he feels his blood boiling in his cheeks.

Mickey clears his throat loudly, making his sister roll her eyes.

“I wanted to talk to one of the employees anyway,” he mutters, playing with the spoon in his hand. “I have a complaint.”

“How can I help you?” Yuuri hurries to ask, feeling more comfortable in his role. He laces his fingers together behind his back, straightening.

“My sister and I need to be transferred into another room immediately. She’s being harassed by the man next door.”

“Harassed?” Yuuri’s features strain. They would need to ask the man to leave if something like that ever happened.

“Don’t listen to him,” the sister speaks up, blowing a spoonful of soup. “He’s overreacting.”

“You need to move us into a different room, far away from that bandit.”

“Now he’s a bandit?” she queries in a playful tone.

“Sara, you’re just too innocent to realise the danger that surrounds you, that’s why you need me to take care of you and-”

“Excuse me, Sir”- Yuuri cuts in before the man could heat up even more. “I’m so sorry to inform you but we have no rooms available at the moment. The last room has just been rented out.”

“Then figure something out,” Mickey declares, pointing at Yuuri with his spoon.

“I can assure you that I will try everything in my power to find a solution to your problem, but-”

Mickey says nothing to stop Yuuri from talking, but his raised hand is enough for him to swallow and look down ashamed.

Sara smacks her spoon into the bowl and glares at her brother. As she opens her mouth to speak, another voice shouts into the quiet murmur of clattering spoons.

“Mickey!”

Mickey’s face flames up, features becoming more and more distorted as footsteps approach behind Yuuri’s back. Yuuri turns his head to hide his smirk - Mickey’s rage is almost comical as he lets it take control of him, his whole strained body. He notices a young man with a beard, waving fervidly.

“I’ve been looking for you two all day! If I didn’t know better, I’d be worried that you don’t enjoy my company!”

The newcomer almost falls down into the chair next to Mickey, launching both arms around his shoulders. Yuuri’s afraid Mickey’s head is about to burst like a volcano that had been sleeping for too long.

“Ah, you’ve already ordered?” The man looks at Yuuri, then back to the steamy bowls. He takes a long whiff, eyes closed and a rapt smile playing on his lips. “Mmm, delicious. Ah, excuse me, can I have what they’re having?”

Yuuri nods, finding it impossible to not return the man’s bright smile.

“Of course.”

“Don’t just stand there and let my sister’s harasser get so close to her!”

“Harasser? What? You mean, me?”

Sara stares up at Yuuri with a look that can only be decoded as “Lord help me”. As Yuuri catches it, his lips curl even more, even less subtle and impossible to keep it hidden. Thankfully, Mickey gets into a heated argument with the newcomer, wherein only one of them actually argues while the other doesn’t let anything falter his grin.

Sara quietly slides off her chair and gestures Yuuri to step away from the table with her. Yuuri glances at the two men before following Sara to a nice hiding spot behind a plant that reaches towards the wooden ceiling.

“Excuse my brother’s behaviour,” she whispers, tilting her head. “He’s a good man, but he’s very… stubborn. You don’t have to worry about Emil, though,” she hurries to add, and Yuuri notes the newcomer’s name. “He’s a sweetheart. Just… too friendly and zestful for his liking. Believe me, I’m not harassed by him, I’ve never been. We actually went hiking together last summer.”

 _“Oh”_ is all Yuuri can say at first. He licks his lips and squints back towards the table. Mickey gestures with his arms so widely it reminds Yuuri of windmills.

“Are you sure it’s alright?”

Sara shrugs and runs her fingers through her hair.

“Mickey has plenty of push. He will calm down, eventually. I doubt he has a serious problem with Emil, I know he likes him a lot. Just… don’t let him get on your nerves, alright?”

“If you say it’s all good, then...”

“It is. Mickey uses big words but doesn’t know the meaning behind them.” For a split second, something ghosts across Sara’s face, dark and sorrowful. Before Yuuri could figure out what it could mean, it disappears without a trace. Sara hides everything behind a smile again. “Just keep telling him you’ll work on it. He’ll forget about all of this in a couple of nights.”

“Anything for the guests,” Yuuri says faintly and Sara laughs.

“Thank you, um… What’s your name again?”

Yuuri’s never told her before.

“I’m Yuuri.”

“Nice meeting you, Yuuri. Thank you for your work. Please give my compliments to the chef, it's the best soup I've ever tasted.”

“Thank you very much, miss.”

“ _Sara_. Please.” She wags her finger at him then makes her way toward their table again. “See you around!”

Yuuri, once alone, takes a deep breath before heading back to the kitchen to inform his mother of Emil's order.

  
⚓  


Thirty minutes later, the diner is packed with hungry travelers. Yuuri serves fifteen other people, feeling a surge of envy seeing the chairs at the twin's table are all occupied by their friends. They all seem so cheerful and calm, like nothing in this world bothers them. Yuuri knows this is the exact vision for which his parents built this place. They wished to create a tiny island of peace and beauty for tired travelers to rest and recharge before another journey.

Their happiness is Yuuri’s sorrow. He is longing for their lives, their adventures, their world expanded further than the horizon that everyone can see. He knows his life doesn't end right where he is now, he just doesn't know how to reach beyond, and often wonders if he'll ever figure it out. The mystery of life doesn't appeal to him like it used to, when a child's imagination could ease the starvation for adventure. He wishes to live the life he imagined for himself when he was still young and full of dreams.

Yuuri didn't give up on them; they gave up on Yuuri. First, they were taken by the lack of independence, then - as a final strike - they were taken by the sea, from which most of these people came, already finding themselves in the curling waves and flapping sails and the neverending, quiet rippling.

His longing for the sea was more than the feeling of solitude. He wanted to be taken and opened up by the water, he wanted to float far, far away from the familiarity. There’s something fluttering inside of him, getting stronger when he’s close to the shore. He hasn’t been able to give a name to this emotion just yet, but with his current connection to the water, he’s afraid he might never understand what any of it actually means. It'll always, always be a “what if”.

This thought scares him more than anything.

Phichit’s arrival breaks him out of his daydreaming. He hears him before he sees him; Phichit greets almost everyone in the diner in the same cheerful tone. Yuuri hides behind the kitchen door and turns his head to see him shoot through the room to speak some words to the twins and their company. Some of them even stand up to hug him tight and pat him on the back, sharing laughs. Yuuri feels his heart clutching in his chest, spiking with strange jealousy. He’s not sure if he’s jealous of Phichit for having such a wonderful way to connect and make friends with other people, or if he’s jealous of everyone else because Phichit’s love for them seems different than his love for Yuuri.

Yuuri would give everything to be the friend Phichit deserves, but he just doesn’t have what it takes.

Yuuir swallows, a bitter taste sticking to his throat. He has to force himself to not tear his gaze away when Phichit rounds the table in the corner, where the two young men share a slice of _castella_. They greet him with the most heartwarming expressions, both of them standing up and hugging him at the same time, squeezing the air out of him until Phichit laughs out loud.

Yuuri takes a deep breath before setting forth and stepping up to them.

He arrives when Phichit pulls a chair for himself from another table and sits down.

“Hello again,” Yuuri says and immediately regrets his own choice of words. They sound inapposite coming from his mouth.

“Hello,” Phichit chirps, heartwarming as ever as he looks up at Yuuri. “So you’ve met Leo and Guang Hong already?”

The two young men smile at him as well. Yuuri’s flustered and hurries to reply:

“Yes, I… took their orders. It’s my job.”

Phichit chuckles and rests his chin on his palm.

“Come on, Yuuri, you don’t need to be so formal around us. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

Leo and Guang Hong nod in agreement. Yuuri feels even more lost now, unable to understand when and why he became friends with the two strangers. He doesn’t dare to question it out aloud.

“Can I get you something?”

“You know I can’t live without your mother’s heavenly _katsudon_. Does she still make it?”

Yuuri tries to flash a meek smile.

“Of course.”

“What’s in a _katsudon_?” Guang Hong chimes in, eyes sparkling at the strange name.

Phichit inhales dramatically, placing a hand on his chest.

“You haven’t had one before?”

“We’ve just arrived!” Leo protests playfully, smoothing his long hair behind his ear. “Haven’t had the pleasure of trying it. I’m sure Guang Hong will remind me next time,” he adds, his shoulder nudging Guang’s whose nose is tinted with pink again.

“You'll take a bite from mine and wanna fight me for it,” Phichit winks. “Right, Yuuri?”

Yuuri swallows. He knows Phichit wants him to join the conversation with a witty reply, but his throat dries at the thought of him trying to be entertaining and fun. He's silent for ten more seconds than is socially acceptable and not incredibly uncomfortable before blurting out:

“If I even serve it to you in one piece.”

He wants to bury himself right here and now, but for some reason, the three young men all start chuckling - and it doesn't sound belittling or forced. Yuuri blinks and bites his lower lip, patiently waiting for them to finish.

“I'll be right back with your _katsudon_ then. How is the _castella_?”

“Incredible,” Guang sighs as he steals the last bite from Leo's fork.

Leo frowns, but his lips curl into a small smirk.

“Great. Would you like anything else?”

“Let's wait with that until Phichit here gets his heavenly meal.”

“I’ve changed my mind, you are not allowed to be in my _katsudon’_ s presence,” Phichit says with a shake of his head, looking strictly at Guang Hong. “I saw what you just did, _thief_.”

Guang Hong and Leo talk over each other to save the last crumbles of the boy’s dignity, while Phichit grins and fights back just as eagerly. Yuuri senses the opportunity to flee unnoticed, scuttering back to the safety of the kitchen. He’s ashamed of himself, but he doesn’t know better - once he finds other people enjoy each other’s company without his presence, he peacefully hauls off.

Hiroko looks at him with a questioning look, sharp eyes seeing the flush on his skin.

“Phichit would love to have your speciality,” Yuuri says, flashing a faint smile.

“Oh, I love that boy,” Hiroko muses, clapping her hands. “I’d better get to it right away! Let’s see if I still remember the way he likes it the most. Yolks still runny, right?”

It doesn’t surprise Yuuri. He remembers his family greeting Phichit with arms wide and with all the love and attention he could wish for, and which he returned right away, just as easily and brightly. Yuuri presumes that it’s partially because he’s never had a friend quite like Phichit before; he was treated like his blood brother, not like any other guest. His reappearance filled all their hearts with joy, like something they’ve long lost found its way back into their lives, even if it’s just for a while. Yuuri hasn’t asked if they’ll be as lucky as last time, when Phichit stayed for five weeks before leaving them for his quest.

Mari pops her head in the kitchen, her thumb pointing somewhere behind her back.

“Is the prodigal son back?”

“Indeed he is,” Hiroko sings before Yuuri could open his mouth. “I’m making him the best _katsudon_ he’s ever tasted.”

“I’d started to think he’d forgot about us,” Mari grumbles, but her eyes sparkle with mischievous light as she turns to Yuuri. “You must be feeling out of this world.”

“Yes. Very excited. So excited.”

“Well. Want to go out for another round? Or just wait here for your friend’s order?”

The thought of going out there again when it’s at its most bustling makes cold drops of sweat drip down his neck. He gently shakes his head, begging Mari with his eyes. Mari sighs and combs her hair back with her fingers, but doesn’t sound frustrated at all as she watches Yuuri take off the apron.

“Got it. Take a break. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.”

Her head disappears out of sight again, leaving Yuuri alone with their mother. Finally, there’s nothing to break the serenity save the hisses and gurgles of the meals in the making. Hiroko hums and twirls on her heels, losing herself in the delight of cooking.

 _She’s always the most beautiful like this_ , Yuuri notes as he watches her from a few steps away. She seems light-hearted and unclouded, like she wouldn’t be anywhere else in the whole world but right here. Yuuri follows her arms movements, her gestures almost perky. She doesn’t care about the haze that sticks to her glasses; she reclines upon something else inside her that can see better than her eyes. She reminds Yuuri of a pagan witch, brewing magic with herbs and potion; breathing and moving in the same rhythm as the universe, nature and the stars on the night sky.

Hiroko turns back to reach the mirin on the shelf behind Yuuri, and faces him with flustered surprise.

“Yuuri!” She exhales with a small chuckle, cupping her own cheek. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri mumbles and helps Hiroko reach the bottle. “I like watching you cook. It’s wonderful.”

“Don’t embarrass an old lady like me,” she reproves with a faint blush blooming on her nose. “It’s just cooking.”

“Looks like magic to someone like me.” Yuuri hands her the mirin. “I feel like I’m useless in the kitchen.”

Hiroko just waves and turns away again.

“I could teach you,” she proffers to Yuuri without looking at him.

“Really?”

“Of course. I remember you asking me to teach you when you were a young boy. Strangely enough, you stopped asking once you were allowed to light fire.”

“I swear it wasn’t intentional. It just… hasn’t really crossed my mind recently.”

Hiroko hums and takes the eggs out of the boiling water, tasting the rice with her other hand.

“Cooking is the perfect distraction. If you wish to take your mind off of something and keep yourself undistracted, cooking is what you need.”

Yuuri swallows dryly.

“That’s not… why.”

“Can I give you some advice, Yuuri?”

Hiroko twirls on her heels again, drying her hands with a cloth. The gentle smile has never left her lips, lighting her features with a soft glow. Yuuri casts his glance down and nods; the next thing he feels is that Hiroko’s soft, plump fingers touch his jaw and tilt his head until she can catch a glimpse of his eyes.

Up this close, Yuuri can see all the faint wrinkles around the corners of her eyes and lips.

“If you wish to lead a mother wrong.” she says after a moment, “never look into her eyes.”

  
⚓  


Yuuri still feels like his head is filled with cold, swirling air when he grabs the steaming bowl and pushes the kitchen door open.

He keeps silent as he slides the _katsudon_ in front of Phichit, the cheerful words don’t reach him. A small smile is all he can offer, the corners of his lips twitch as they curl up. Phichit asks him something that he shakes his head to, not caring to find out what the question was.

He turns on his heels and heads straight towards his bedroom. The weight of everyone’s concern and complaints tighten around his ankles, making it harder to take any more steps. He feels his heart beating on his skin, in the tingling of his fingertips.

Why is everyone so convinced that there’s something wrong with him? Why can’t they let him to be in a daze, to let his gaze wander and his thoughts free for once? Why can’t they let him take a break, why do they all assume something weighs him down, that he needs help? The only reason he’s so drained with a pinch of anxiety crawling up on his back is because everyone around him treats him like a fragile little thing, confusing him with their questions and soothing words.

If it wasn’t for Mari’s warning, Phichit’s request, Hiroko’s advice, then it wouldn’t have crossed his mind that he’s even weaker than he used to be. It feels like he’s lost his ability to lock himself out of the world they share a life in, hiding his insecurities deep down as long as he unfolds and solves them himself. Now, everyone can see them like they’re written all over his naked skin with indelible ink, but they all have their own explanations for whatever they see. They all try to judge him, understand him, shape him into someone he’s never been and never will be. They cut everything out of him they don’t know of or don’t want inside him, gutting him. They think they know him better than himself, they think they have all the answers like they haven’t crossed Yuuri’s mind before, like he wouldn’t know how to think and decide for himself.

Yuuri makes a left turn right where the stairs to the first floor start climbing up the wall, dashing through a door that fences off the family’s part of the building. Right as he slams the door behind him, he hurtles into someone, his forehead knocking into their jaw.

Yuuri steps back hissing and so is the other person.

“I’m so sor-” Yuuri clips his words as he looks up and sees Viktor’s face, fingers tapping on his jaw.

“It’s my fault,” Viktor assures him, gentle as ever. His softness boils the blood in Yuuri’s veins even more. “Your father said I should look for you here - at least that's what I think he said - but I didn’t expect to run into you quite literally.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri spits and rounds him right away. “We’ll talk later.”

“Oh.” Viktor turns around as well, calling after him again: “Please, it’s really important.”

“I’m busy.”

“I just need a minute of your time, I promise.”

Yuuri quickens his steps as he hears Viktor following him. Why can’t people just stop talking?

“I told you, later.”

“Yuuri-” Viktor curls his fingers around Yuuri’s wrist to stop him.

It’s the last straw. Yuuri tears himself out of Viktor’s loose grip and turns his head to shout in his face:

“Leave me alone!”

Viktor freezes right where he is, mouth hanging open, arm stretched out. Yuuri feels relief, looking into his widened eyes, filled with regret and a drop of sheer panic. He faces him and straightens, taking a step ahead as Viktor takes one back. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, I don’t want to help you with anything, I don’t even want to look at you right now, why is that so hard to understand?”

Before he realises his mistake, it’s all too late. The light changes and dies in Viktor’s eyes, dripping down on his features, hardening them until he looks unfamiliar and distant, like a new person. Viktor slips on a polite mask of a small, empty smile and empty eyes, everything in him is empty, empty, empty.

“I understand,” he says, and even his voice sounds dull. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

Viktor glances away and does as he’s been told, leaving Yuuri alone in the hallway. Yuuri needs some moments to gather himself and continue on his way, slamming the room to his door so hard that the walls shiver.

He leaps to his bed and flops down onto it, throwing his glasses away. They hit the floor with a loud click. Yuuri buries his face into his pillow; right as his skin touches it, the salty tears start flowing, the cloth dampening and getting cold. He’s sobbing with his mouth open, gripping the sheets until his fingers cramp and his knuckles whiten.

He lets it all out, not caring about anything but his own misery. His bubbling guilt and rage flow out of him with the tears until he feels physically and mentally dehydrated. His lips are chapped, the dark circles around his eyes puffy and pink, his nose is running and his ruffled hair is sticking to his forehead. He’s come apart completely, and now that he’s loosened the weight that lurked on his shoulders he’s fighting with the sensation of flying away.

It’s a constant battle of being pushed into the ground and being so light he’s afraid the wind could blow him away. He clings to the bed frame, breathing in short and wet. The damp pillowcase under his head is disgusting - he’s made such a mess, and it’s not just the bed but his whole face.

He needs all his remaining strength to push himself up and stumble to the washbowl in the corner of his room. He stoops above it, splashing lukewarm, soapy water onto his face. He rubs the water into his skin with his still trembling fingers, breath still hitching. He leans on the small wooden table, and he lets his head roll back. He just needs to focus. The slight pain in his neck as it tightens; it’s real. The hard wood under his nails; that’s real. The air that he lets into his lungs is real. The dim, greyish light of twilight on his face is real.

The knocks on the door are real.

Yuuri nearly falls over.

“Yes?” he calls out, voice coming out weak and hoarse.

“It’s me.”

Yuuri steps to the door and leans his forehead and palms on it, closing his eyes.

“Phichit, I- I can’t do this right now.”

“I know, Yuuri, but you’ve locked yourself in for hours and I’m worried. I just want to be here for you. Will you let me in?”

Yuuri presses his lips together. He wanted to be alone so badly, but he could already hide the ugliest parts of him. He might need someone to help him get through the aftermath, and he doesn’t know anyone else who could be better for him than Phichit. His family probably thinks that he’s just too tired to go back to work after yesterday, and they let him rest and recharge.

“Yuuri?”

“Alright.”

Yuuri turns the doorknob, letting Phichit step into the room. He reaches out and strokes his arm right away, and Yuuri leans into his touch.

“Make yourself at home,” he jokes wanly. Phichit doesn’t draw back, guiding both of them towards Yuuri’s bed.

They sit down, Phichit drawing his legs up and pulling Yuuri into a tight hug. He starts speaking to him in his native language, soft and quiet, then brings his hand up to stroke Yuuri’s sweaty hair.

Yuuri melts, inhaling slowly and steadily. At first, he counts to himself to tame his breaths, but he quickly drops the idea of counting the time in any way. He doesn’t know how long it takes for him to pull himself together completely - all he’s sure of is Phichit, who never even moved a muscle to distract Yuuri. When he finally pulls back, his face and hair are completely dry, just like his throat.

Phichit releases him with one last stroke of his thumb.

“Water?”

Yuuri just nods. He watches Phichit leave the room and come back in a blink of an eye with a cup of cold water. On his way to the bed, he reaches down for the glasses as well, handing them both to Yuuri. Yuuri takes them, noticing that his fingers stopped shaking as much. He slips his glasses on and drinks in gulps until Phichit slows him down and he obeys instantly.

“Thank you,” he croaks then, finally finding his voice.

“Are you hungry?”

His stomach knots at the thought of swallowing food.

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Yuuri shrugs.

“Everything at once. As usual.”

“I don’t want to push you, I’m just trying to understand better. If I did something, then…”

“It wasn’t you.” Yuuri stares into the cup, watching his reflection wave and stir. “It wasn’t just you.”

“I’m listening.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Phichit.” Yuuri looks up at him, and continues before Phichit could ask another question. “I don’t know what this creature is that you told me about, I don’t know why we’re in this together, I don’t know why you talked about this like I was supposed to follow and it made me feel…” Yuuri can’t find the right words right away, so he just makes a vague gesture before spilling: “Useless. A bad friend. Incompetent. Just plain stupid.”

Phichit’s jaw drops. Yuuri would find his expression hilarious, if he wasn’t feeling the way he does now.

“You don’t- Yuuri. You don’t remember I only set sails because you specifically asked me to find someone for you?”

“No,” Yuuri whimpers, guilt and confusion warming his chest. Something is crawling and scratching in the back of his mind; the feeling of pressure to remember, remember, remember. “I did that?”

“You- you. You approached me with the story of how you met a beautiful creature in the bay when you were a child and- and that’s why I changed my routes, I sailed across the seas just to see them myself and meet others and question them about similar experiences, and I found out so much, Yuuri, _so much_ , and you’re telling me… oh my god. Oh my god you’re not joking, are you?”

Phichit finally closes his mouth just to gawk at a petrified Yuuri and wait for his reply, fingers covering his lips.

“I’m… Is that… is that really true?”

“Yes,” Phichit exclaims, then quickly calms himself. “I’m not mad at you, I don’t blame you, but it’s all so… _strange_.” He furrows his brows and squints. He talks slower when he speaks up next. “If you saw yourself four years ago, talking about them, you’d know that it’s unbelievable you forgot about the whole thing. There’s no way… no way it’s natural. Did something happen to you that could lead to amnesia?”

Yuuri shivers. He takes another sip of water before bolstering himself to speak, teeth clinging on the glass. He tells Phichit what had happened to him the day before, getting tired of telling it in detail- all he says is the minimum Phichit needs to know.

“I’m so sorry. I’m really happy you’re alright now.” Phichit reaches out and takes Yuuri’s hand in his. “But you remember me just fine, and seem to remember everything else… except if… alright. I have to ask you a question you’ll hate me for. Can I?”

 _It can’t possibly get worse than this_ , Yuuri thinks.

“Sure.”

“What do you remember from the day your dog died?”

“I remember running away from home that day,” Yuuri replies without thinking about it, his heart and fist clenching.

To his surprise, Phichit nods like it’s somehow the right answer to his question. He squeezes Yuuri’s hand tighter, filling him with confidence and reassurance.

“Alright. Now think. What else did you do then?”

“What did I…? I cried. I fell apart, you know that. I ran down to the shore to be alone and I… climbed on a cliff and just… sobbed.”

Phichit urges him with leaning closer to him.

“Go on. What happened then?”

“Why is it so important?”

“You will soon understand. What happened after? Tell me everything you remember.”

Yuuri glances down at the cup again, collecting pieces of his memory.

“Mari found me. I thought she’d be mad, but she was just worried. Our parents were too. I was out for hours, alone when it got dark. Mari took my hand and I followed her back into the inn… my mom hugged me and cried, then my father came home with Nishigori’s dad and hugged me as well… they said nothing about running away, didn’t scold me right away, they all just…  understood it. I was put in a hot bath and my mom sang to me while she scrubbed the sand off me. I went to bed feeling… exhausted. And then I fell asleep. That’s all I can remember,” Yuuri finishes off in an apologetic tone like he’d expect it wasn’t enough.

Phichit’s eyes bore into his, blinking slowly. He presses his lips together and tilts his head slightly, fingers never leaving Yuuri’s hand.

“I see,” he finally sighs, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “Alright… there’s a lot I have to tell you then. You’ve completely forgotten about them. But why… and how?”

Phichit looks away, glance flickering on the walls as he thinks to himself. He takes his time, sitting in complete silence, fingertips tapping on Yuuri’s wrist.

“Can I ask you something about yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“You said you hit your head… how badly?”

“It knocked me out. I fell unconscious.”

“And you were alone? Completely alone?”

“Yes…” Yuuri mutters, knowing exactly where Phichit’s mind is going. He shuts his eyes. “I thought about it too. I shouldn't have survived. I don't know how I did.”

“God, don’t you feel guilty for staying alive! It’s just… An adrenaline rush is not enough for that once you sank,” Phichit sticks the tip of his tongue between his teeth and lips. “You must have been pulled back up by something. Someone. It just doesn't add up, there must be a missing piece.”

Yuuri sighs and leans back against the wall, Phichit following. He rests his forehead on Phichit’s shoulder as he keeps holding his hand, sensing that Yuuri craves softness.

“So what did I tell you?” Yuuri speaks up after licking his lips. Phichit tenses up under his cheek. “About that… creature.”

“You had a lot to say,” comes the teasing reply that helps Yuuri chuckle and relax a bit. “I don’t want to bother you with everything I learned in the past couple years, that would be way too much at once now. Oh, wait.”

Phichit fidgets a little bit. Yuuri watches him rummage out a folded, crinkled piece of parchment from his pocket, that he hands to Yuuri.

“Before I knew about your memory loss, I thought it would cheer you up. Now, it’s the perfect way to convince you I wasn’t lying to you. And that I’m not going mad either.”

“I didn’t think any of that,” Yuuri protests, unfolding the parchment. “What’s this?”

“Read it.”

Yuuri tries to swallow down a lump in his throat as his eyes scan over the writing. No doubt it's his handwriting, tiny letters of ink in cursive. It’s dated to the third day of Phichit staying with them. He wrote the full story of the day he had lost his best friend as a child and now Phichit's questions start to make a little more sense.

Yuuri skips the first paragraphs, those that tell the tale he's already aware of and just told Phichit once again.

When he reaches the part where he explains how he got to the cliff though - that's when his throat tightens and his fingers start shaking again.

 

_I noticed a strange glowing orb underwater, something pulsing with green light. A shadow, size of a dolphin followed, circling around me before breaking the surface. They were the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. Their hair long and shining silver even when soaking wet. Slim chest and shoulders and hands covered in scales, their color darkening as they reached their hips. Their body ended in a muscular, fish-like fin instead of legs, so light that it looked almost transparent. Their face looked like it had been carved out of marble, bones defined but they still had a cherub's soft features and eyes the color of the sea illuminated by the morning sun. They seemed to be around my age, as far as I could tell from their human features. They spoke to me in my language, holding out a gift - the glowing shell I'd noticed before. They said it was for me, that it was going to lead me home. I decided to accept it. It felt warm on my skin, nothing else unusual about it._

_They asked me why I was crying and tried to comfort me by telling me about the time they had been sad. They were surrounded by a strange atmosphere that eased my mind, not letting me be afraid or concerned by their appearance. Their nails and ears sharp. I felt the urge to touch them, follow them wherever they'd be going next, but they kept their distance, looking almost shy._

_The sense of danger turned into longing during the time we've spent together, the thought of separation strokes me with pain. They pulled my soul closer and closer with the look in their eyes and their slightly hoarse voice, which was most likely distorted by the air they could somehow breathe. Before we could got engaged in the conversation, I heard my sister shouting my name. They disappeared._

 

Yuuri's mouth is hanging open, sweat smudging the writing on the parchment. He can feel Phichit's eyes on him, watching his every move and breath. Yuuri has to turn the page to scan through the other parts about Mari and him walking home, learning that the shell he was gifted with showed them the way with its bright light. He also read that Mari was sceptical about him meeting someone from another world, and told him to never speak of them again. Yuuri's breath hitches as he reads the last sentences:

 

_It's been five years. Ever since then, I've been looking for them whenever I could. I kept the shell - it's with me all the time, but it's never lit up again since that night. It's the only clue I have, the one thing I can touch and feel that proves I was not dreaming. I've seen them. I've talked to them. I've felt them. And I want to meet them again._

 

“‘ _I want to meet them again_ ’,” Yuuri reads out loud, and he can feel the words spreading in his chest.

Phichit strokes Yuuri's shoulder as he shivers under his touch.

“Do you understand why I think it's strange you've forgotten? These are not the words of someone who just stops caring.”

“We have to find the shell,” Yuuri says as he finally finds his voice. He's suddenly filled with determination and excitement, the last drops of cold panic and embarrassment finally gone. “It must be still here somewhere. I said I had it with me all the time… maybe if I see it, it'll all come back to me! And when you tell me everything you’ve learned about them, there must be a way to find them again! And I’ll ask Mari, maybe I said something else only she remembers!”

Yuuri tilts his head and peeks at Phichit so he can see his confidence as well. Phichit grins, teeth shining like pearls between his dark lips. He squeezes Yuuri's shoulder tighter.

“That's the spirit.”

There's a knock on the door again.

“Come in,” Yuuri shouts, eyes never leaving Phichit. He feels connected to him again by their secret, their quest, their responsibility. The sorrow he used to feel for not experiencing excitement of an adventure fades away. He's finally happy as anticipation pulses in his veins, and he's never been more thankful to have Phichit by his side as his friend.

The door opens, faint steps echoing.

“Hello? Yuuri, are you-”

Viktor swallows his words back, still holding the doorknob. Yuuri jumps, Phichit's arm falling down from his shoulders unconsciously. Viktor is standing in the doorway, eyes wide and expression raw as he lets his jaw drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chugs beer straight from the tap* ...Yes, I did end a late, boring ass chapter with nothing but minor characters and raging anxiety on a fucking cliché that won't even develop later on.
> 
> So, I know it's old news but I did have disgustingly busy weeks with some serious decisions I had to make in my personal life. It's been a wild ride, and even now when everything is set, I'll have less time to work on fandom stuff. I apologize for the wait, but from now on this is the pace I can keep up with. I hope you'll stick around, and thank you all so-so much for your kudos and comments and bookmarks, I highly appreciate them. ♥
> 
> // find me on tumblr as [[nikiforovisgay]](http://nikiforovisgay.tumblr.com/)  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative chapter title: Fishing for Compliments ;)  
> Altenative work title: MERMAY IS FOREVER
> 
> Thank you so-so much for reading!! Every one of you deserves a pearl, brought up from Davy Jones' Locker by the most beautiful mermaid you've ever seen. ♥ If you liked it, please stick around for more magic and gayness.
> 
> My beautiful beta is [[esoterrible]](http://esoterrible.tumblr.com/)  
> Find me on tumblr as [[captaincuppy]](http://captaincuppy.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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